


Wings of Life

by BackattheBein



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with no happy ending, Heavy Angst, Implied Character Death, Implied Logince - Freeform, Threat of Surgery, Torture, Trauma, Whump, Winged!AU, Winged!Logan, Wingfic, he's a genetic anomaly, it's got both, threat of violence, very few people in this verse have wings it's super rare and coveted, you choose which one you want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackattheBein/pseuds/BackattheBein
Summary: Based on a whump prompt from tumblr user @heartlesslywhumpingLogan was born with beautiful wings. One day, he is kidnapped and imprisoned. They torture him, playing with his wings and making him extremely uncomfortable. They threaten him with an ultimatum in which he has no say. Will Logan survive?This fic is a choose-your-own-adventure! The first chapter is mandatory (given you've read through ALL of the warnings), while the second and third are not. If you only want the happy (or happiest) ending, do NOT read chapter three. If you want the angst of all angst, read everything. Take care, and enjoy!





	1. The Examination

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a choose-your-own-adventure! The first chapter is mandatory (given you've read through ALL of the warnings), while the second and third are not. If you only want the happy (or happiest) ending, do NOT read chapter three. If you want the angst of all angst, read everything. Take care, and enjoy!

Logan had long since stopped suppressing his shudders. Even with his wings and the meager comfort they provided, it was like he couldn’t get warm.

The shivering had never stopped any of the seemingly endless sea of faces who came in every day, whether to bring him his meager food, or to grope and push him around to check his vitals, or most frustratingly, just to poke and prod him without saying anything and then disappear again, leaving him deeply unsettled.

His shivering and shuddering certainly hadn’t stopped two massively built men from manhandling him off the ground and laying him down face-first onto an operating table that had been wheeled into his cell. He’d only began to struggle when he’d heard and felt straps being pulled over top of him and clicked into place, trapping him there.

He had yet to be able to identify his captors for a number of reasons: strapped to the table, he had limited motion of his head; there was almost no natural light in his cell, so he also couldn’t tell how many days had passed since he’d been taken; and, his glasses had been taken from him and accidentally destroyed when he’d jumped the thief to try to get them back.

His assailants had also taken his clothes, giving him only a threadbare pair of pants to wear and nothing else. With no shirt, his wings and back fully exposed to the elements, he’d felt incredibly vulnerable, especially so now with the full length of his torso pressed to a freezing cold metal table with no way to escape.

Logan was still shaking minutes later when he heard the door open, creaking on old hinges that desperately needed oil, and then the sound of shoes clacking against the stone floor.

The clacking stopped, and he felt the slightest bit of warmth coming from a presence on his left.

Suddenly, he felt what he assumed was a hand gliding through his delicate downy feathers. Stroking them possessively.

“Good morning, Logan.”

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. He was freezing, malnourished and dehydrated, disoriented, all kinds of not okay with this situation, and the last time someone had spoken to him like a person was the day he’d been taken.

_C’mon, nerd! One day at the movies instead of the library won’t kill you!_

“I said, good morning, Logan,” said the voice again, this time twisting their fingers into the feathers, pulling just enough to be painful.

Logan whimpered, biting his tongue. He’d rather not engage with whoever this person was, his torturer for lack of other evidence.

They clicked their tongue. “A shame. You know you can talk to me, right?” they spoke, bending down to whisper directly into their subject’s ear. “I don’t actually want to treat you like an animal with no greater thinking power.”

Logan shivered again. He really doubted that statement was sincere, but at this point he was no closer to figuring out why he’d been kidnapped than the day it happened, so anything was fair game.

They sighed, and then suddenly Logan felt the person press more weight into his wings. It felt so wrong. He barely managed to turn his head enough to see out of his blurry periphery that the person was –

_No._

They – were pressing their entire face into Logan’s left wing, rubbing their nose in it, sending the feathers this way and that and kicking up the dust that had began to accumulate from being too weak to preen.

**_No!_ **

He never let anyone touch his wings. As much as he outwardly insisted they were not the miracles of nature they truly were, he deeply loved them and always did his best to care for them. He had never trusted anyone with them, until one Roman Prince had quite literally waltzed into his life.

Whereas Logan’s captor, currently standing above him at the operating table, gazed at the wings like a specimen ready for dissection, Roman had been in awe the night they met.

The deep blue tones of his longest feathers had complimented his new black suit incredibly well, and the perfect tailoring job made him look particularly outstanding. But Roman hadn’t objectified him like all the other brainless morons who’d tried to win him over simply because of how pretty they imagined he’d be on their arms.

 _You’re gorgeous_ , had been the first words out of Roman’s mouth, and that had stuck with Logan. Not, ‘your wings are gorgeous,’ the object of everyone’s attention since he’d been blessed (or cursed?) with them from birth. Granted, it was still fairly superficial, but after they’d gotten to know one another, dancing together all night long, all the other suitors had blissfully left his mind.

“Perhaps we shall start the procedure tomorrow.”

Logan stiffened, snapping back to his body and to this moment. His mind was now racing and he could feel his heart pounding where it was pressed against the table.

“Ah, I see I have your attention now, my little raven.” The person continued to idly stroke Logan’s feathers, and Logan couldn’t help feeling like his skin was crawling from the delicate contact. Those were _private_ , he had never let anyone touch them, other than his parents when he was young, and even then, as soon as he was big enough to clean his feathers himself he did it. That was why Roman was so special; he was delicate, and knew exactly how to work out the kinks, and most importantly he _always asked for consent first_.

And now this stranger who probably wanted to hurt him was just touching them just … like that, and –

“So, would you like to know what the procedure is?”

Logan’s breath caught. He felt like he was being threatened and talked down to at the same time. He could never stand being condescended, but he had never been more powerless in a situation.

His captor was now running both of his hands along his wings, from where they grew out of his back to the very tips, like they were petting a cat or something they owned.

“I’ve been following you for some time now. I’m sure you know, you’re quite famous. Many people in this world would do dark things to have what you were born with.”

Logan’s stomach turned. He’d met many of those people, and even though he’d known Roman for almost three years now, he always worried that Roman would turn out to be just like the rest of them, despite proving time and time again that he wasn’t.

“I myself am a collector of,” he stopped his hands, simply holding Logan in place, which was useless given the straps, but intimidating nonetheless. “Rare artifacts. Rhino horns. Elephant tusks. As are my clients. So, as a – former – surgeon,” he coughed, “and a taxidermist, I will take the utmost pleasure in doing this.”

Blinding, searing pain as Logan felt his wings being pulled away from his body, almost taught. He saw white. He tried to arch his body, straining to ease the pain, but the straps around his torso had no give to them. Logan cried out, tears burning at his eyes, and only then did his torturer let go.

“One more day, little bird. One more day of this curse, and you’ll be free. Think of it like finally becoming the normal person you’ve always wanted to be.” With that, they turned around and began walking out of the room, the clacking of their shoes mixing with Logan’s labored breathing and once again racing thoughts.

He could barely collect them into one coherent thought, the pain of that experience still shooting through the nerves in his back. His legs jolted where they were strapped down, and his hands were clenched so hard, white-knuckled, that he would be surprised if his overgrown nails didn’t break the skin of his palms.

The door slammed shut, and Logan felt the dam break, tears gushing down his face in the low light of his now empty cell. He was strapped face-down on a table that was somehow still freezing, where tomorrow, the person who’d been torturing him, assaulting him for the last hour, after what could have been weeks of little to no food and no good human contact, was going to …

 _What? What could he possibly mean?_ All the fears Logan had mixed with anger at his confusion. He tried to slow down his breathing again.

 _C’mon, nerd!_ Logan could almost imagine Roman saying. _Use that big brain of yours!_

_Surgeon … elephant tusks … free and normal …_

He choked as realization hit him. It took all his strength not to retch despite an empty stomach.

They were going to remove his wings. 


	2. The Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the comfort part of the hurt/comfort. If you want the happy ending, read this chapter and then move on with your life, satisfied that everything worked out just right.
> 
> Logan wakes up to see a beautiful visage with him in his lonely cell. Is he hallucinating, or will he be free?

Logan must have been hallucinating.

He had to be, why else would the shining golden eyes of Roman be staring directly into his soul, and to his distress filled over with tears?

Logan had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t fall asleep on the table; it was far too cold, and he was too numb with shock and fear about what was to be his fate in this hellish room. His wings were a comforting weight against his back, but he felt terror in every bone at the threat of what was to come. He kept trying to convince himself that this wasn’t going to happen, that everything would be okay, but he was quickly losing hope.

“ —gan? Can you hear me?”

He tried not to jolt, bringing his swimming vision back into focus. His mind had been wandering, a way to pass the time, although he was torn between wanting things to move at a glacial pace and wanting to be freed from his confines. Just barely lifting his head off the table, Logan was surprised to still see the vision of his boyfriend standing before him. Logan blinked, trying to clear his vision, realizing that he fully assumed that when his thoughts returned to the present, the handsome vision would have been gone.

 _Why was that gaze so intense?_ Logan felt logically that Roman couldn’t actually be there, wouldn’t actually want to save him, even if he was capable of it, he wasn’t, he didn’t think he was worth it, he —

“Oh my god, Logan,” Roman pleaded. “Shut up, of course you’re worth saving.”

Logan realized he must have been mumbling to himself, something he’d picked up in the last days in a desperate effort to stay sane.

Tentatively, Roman reached out a hand to softly stroke Logan’s overgrown bangs.

Logan whimpered. _Why does it feel so real?_

Roman retracted his hand immediately, and Logan found himself actually yearning for its return, feeling the desire deep in his gut. He needed human contact that wasn’t possessive and threatening.

“Okay, let’s at least get you out of those straps. We have to hurry, but I’ll be careful, okay?”

Logan wasn’t sure exactly what that phrase meant until he felt something warm brush across his left wrist where it was restrained behind his back. He flinched, hard, as much as he could while still tied to the table.

 _Not real, it’s not real_. Logan was trying very earnestly now not to hyperventilate, because a hallucination should not feel that real, that warm and solid.

Roman tried to shush him, gently but urgently. “It’s okay, Logan. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do before I do it, okay?” He rushed out in one breath. “But we need to get you out of here, quickly and quietly. They don’t know I’m here.”

Logan’s bottom lip hurt where he was biting it, and he couldn’t see anything with his eyes scrunched closed. He tried starting up his breathing exercises, and gave the smallest nod he could to Roman. He still didn’t want to admit that he could really be there. _This has to be just an incredibly vivid dream_ , he tried to reassure himself, _the brain’s way of giving some reprieve from this living nightmare_.

“I’m going to remove the straps across your back, so I might tough your arms or your back, okay?”

Logan nodded his head. _It’s just a really vivid dream_ , he tried repeating in his mind like a mantra. _You’ll wake up, and maybe none of this ever happened! You’ll be back at home!_

“I promise you this, Logan, I am going to take you home,” Roman said with conviction. “I’m gonna take the straps off your legs now, alright?”

Logan could feel the tiniest fire of hope flicking deep within his core. He wasn’t fully ready to believe in it yet, but it was there.

He gave a flap of his wings, stiff where they’d been laying against his back, and sent a gust of air whooshing through the room.

“Your wings … well, they don’t quite look clean, but they work! That’s good!” Roman said as he walked to stand in front of Logan’s head. “Now what about the rest of you? Can you stand?”

Logan’s entire body felt dreadfully stiff, especially his neck, and somehow, now that he was free, he was loathe to move. It’s going to be painful, but if you want to leave, you have to get up.

Slowly, gently, Roman helped Logan rolled onto his side, careful not to touch him more than necessary.

Once he was on his side, Logan tried to sit up, but he immediately felt dizzy. He started falling backwards onto the table and nearly off of it onto the floor, but Roman was right there to catch him, wrapping just one arm around his back, wary of not touching his wings.

Logan’s vision wasn’t swimming, but it sure felt like his head was, so he shut his eyes and took some shallow breaths, trying to focus.

He couldn’t see how antsy Roman was becoming, their window of opportunity getting smaller and smaller.

“Can you walk, love? Or I could carry you?”

Logan bristled at the idea of being carried. Normally, he hated it. He could fly! Or walk; he always first attempted to walk somewhere, not wanting to rely on his wings for everything because it wasn’t necessary, but he was pretty sure he could do neither at this point.

Resigned and exhausted, Logan nodded his head. “Carry me,” he whispered.

Roman started to walk away. Logan whimpered, fearing that the man was really a vision and was leaving him to return to this horrible reality once more. But Roman soon returned, showing him the blanket he’d picked up from where he’d discarded it earlier.

“Can I wrap you up, Lo? You look like you’re freezing, and it might be easier to carry you like this.” Roman said it would be easier, but in his mind he meant safer, as in _I can shield you from the bad guys and all the awful people in this world who’ve hurt you and still want to hurt you, I can protect you from the elements, I can do my job as a knight right for once and keep you safe now, if you’ll still let me._

Logan did his best not to move, to scramble away from Roman as he brought the blanket forward and delicately wrapped it around his shoulders. His wings strained with tension, shaking his entire back, but the heat of the blanket immediately began to relax him.

Before he knew it, Roman was holding him: one arm wrapped underneath his legs, the other behind his back but more or less on top of his wings. He was too fatigued to put up any more of a fight or for the position to bother his wings.

From there, he let himself drift in and out of consciousness. It was the total opposite of his normal attitude: whatever happened, would happen. He didn’t have the strength to care anymore what happened to his body as Roman moved them out of the cell, through the building, and out into the world.

In fact, he didn’t even realize he was outside until he felt the sun on his face, blinding him even despite having his eyes shut.

“We did it Lo,” Roman said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re free.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Also feel free to come and yell at me on tumblr, username is the same


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